Imtiaz Dharker

(1954 / Lahore)

Imtiaz Dharker
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Imtiaz Dharker (born 1954 is a Pakistan-born British poet, artist and documentary filmmaker. She has won the Queen’s Gold Medal for her English poetry.

Dharker was born in Lahore, Punjab, Pakistan to Pakistani parents. She was brought up in Glasgow where her family moved when she was less than a year old. She was married to Simon Powell, the founder of the organization Poetry Live, who died in October 2009 after surviving for eleven years with cancer. Dharker divides her time between London, Wales, and Mumbai. She says she describes herself as a "Scottish Muslim Calvinist" adopted by India and married into Wales. Her daughter Ayesha Dharker, (whose father is Anil ... more »

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Comments about Imtiaz Dharker

  • Joan Morrison (1/5/2018 7:51:00 AM)

    I loved Imtiaz's poem called Thaw which was commissioned for the BBC's radio 4 programme on the 4 seasons and aired on the Sunday before Christmas. Is there any chance of getting a print out of this poem?

    10 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Daniel Nunn (11/21/2017 4:19:00 AM)

    In my English class, one of my close friends is researching Dharker's poem, The Right Word. Unfortunately, the poem is not on the website. I hope you can fix this fatal error soon. Dickhead.

    2 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • Daniel Nunn (11/21/2017 4:17:00 AM)

    In my English class, one of my close friends is researching Dharker's poem The Right Word. Unfortunately, this poem is not on the website. I hope you can fix this fatal error soon. Dickhead.

    2 person liked.
    20 person did not like.
Best Poem of Imtiaz Dharker

Tissue

Paper that lets the light
shine through, this
is what could alter things.
Paper thinned by age or touching,
the kind you find in well-used books,
the back of the Koran, where a hand
has written in the names and histories,
who was born to whom,
the height and weight, who
died where and how, on which sepia date,
pages smoothed and stroked and turned
transparent with attention.
If buildings were paper, I might
feel their drift, see how easily
they fall away on a sigh, a shift
in the direction of the wind.
Maps too. The sun shines through
their ...

Read the full of Tissue